


prom

by nightbirdrises



Series: Sinking 'verse [20]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I used to dream about this kind of thing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	prom

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this segment: none
> 
> You can read Sinking in chronological order using [this page](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/sinking), or you can read it in the order of events as I wrote them [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/tagged/v%3A+sinking/chrono).

_Blaine kept his head down and waited for Kurt to respond to the letter, but no sound came; he didn’t even move, just remained frozen there. Looking up, Blaine frowned as he realized that Kurt indeed had the letter open in front of him, but with eyes shut tight, he wasn’t reading it._

_"Kurt," Blaine said, "what does it— but you can’t hear me," he added with a roll of his eyes meant for himself. He reached over to place a hand on Kurt’s thigh, rubbing gently until the corner of Kurt’s mouth twitched into a half smile._

_"Thanks," he said quietly. "I don’t ever want to open my eyes again because then I’ll have to look at this." Blaine squeezed his leg. "Okay, okay, I’ll look at the damn thing now."_

_Blaine watched, muscles tense despite his every effort to relax, as Kurt blinked his eyes open and focused them on the sheet of paper. His irises, with all the colors of the ocean and just as deep, flicked from word to word, but Blaine couldn’t read his expression. So he waited. And waited._

_Finally Kurt inhaled softly, glancing at Blaine, who resumed without a thought the rubbing of his leg, maybe out of anticipation._

_"It’s a no," Kurt said flatly._

_Blaine’s hand stopped and his stomach clenched unpleasantly._

 

* * *

 

**I don’t want to go.**

Blaine sighed, crossing his legs on Kurt’s bed while Kurt paced the room. He’d been touchy for over a month now and it was starting to wear on Blaine’s nerves — all this tip-toeing around his boyfriend like he was a ticking time bomb didn’t feel good at all. And sure, they’d had more than a few moments when Kurt seemed to forget all about his rejection and allowed himself to have fun with Blaine or with Quinn or whatever, but right now…

**I haven’t even asked you.**

**But you want to go** , Kurt signed back. He hadn’t tried speaking once since the topic came up, which was a clear indication of his state of mind. It worried Blaine.  **I know you do.**

**Not without you, but I don’t understand.**

**Don’t understand what?**

Blaine slipped in his signing and huffed out a frustrated breath before grabbing the board from nearby.  _It’s your senior prom, why don’t you want to go?_

 **It’s stupid**  was Kurt’s childish response, and he seemed to realize it. That didn’t keep him from continuing.  **I’ll go to yours next year. I’ll be here, anyway.**

_So the hunt still isn’t going well, I take it._

**No one wants a deaf employee like me.**  Kurt shook his head.  **I can’t even be a translator because I don’t know this language that well.**

 _Really?_ Blaine knew enough about sign language at this point to know that Kurt often used choppy, direct translation instead of the language’s true structure, but he didn’t want to lower Kurt’s progressively worsening morale.

**Two years and I’ve never taken a real class. It’s not enough.**

_You never know until you try. Besides, there are plenty of entry-level jobs you could get._

Kurt arched an eyebrow and stopped to stare, challenging, at Blaine.  **Name one.**

_… do I get time to do research first, or?_

**Thought so.**

Kurt sat down on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him and towards Blaine, who doodled a quick picture of the New York City skyline. He smiled as, underneath it, he drew a stick figure with Kurt’s signature messy pompadour. He wished he had a pink marker.

 **What are you doing?**  Kurt signed; Blaine almost missed it, as focused as he was on the drawing. In answer, he turned the board for him to see. Kurt craned his neck and squinted slightly in order to see from his distance, but he soon smiled, a subtle flush rising in his cheeks.  **I can’t believe you still think I’ll get there.**

It was a squeeze with the drawing still there, but Blaine wrote,  _It’s not a belief, it’s fact. You, sir, are meant to be in New York or wherever you want to be at any given time. I don’t believe for a second you’ll let yourself stay here if your heart is somewhere else._

Kurt grinned but glanced away, apparently embarrassed as he signed,  **I’m pretty sure my heart is sitting right in front of me.**

Blaine’s own heart felt like it skipped over a beat or three — he lay the board in his lap and reached a hand out. Kurt took it and let himself be pulled, first to his feet and then to the bed, nearly tumbling on top of Blaine in the process.

"I keep telling you I’m a romantic," he mumbled, voice rough from not speaking for what had likely been more than a day, "yet you’re always surprised." He backed off to let Blaine sign.

 **Not surprised, just happy.**   **But I love you no matter what.**

"So even if hadn’t a single romantic bone in my body—"

**I love you.**

"—or I dropped out of school to become a crude trucker—"

Blaine scoffed. **I love you.**

"—or I—"

 **I still love you** , Blaine signed one last time.  **Always.**

Kurt nodded, leaned in, and whispered “I love you, too, handsome. Blaine.”

Then they were kissing and Blaine found himself on his back, Kurt’s forearms bracketing his chest and pressing into the mattress. He melted into it as always, Kurt’s nearness grounding and sweet with the smell of him. Too soon, though, Kurt broke the kiss and his lips hovered mere centimeters from Blaine’s.

"I almost bought a pack last week," he confessed; when Blaine found his eyes, they were looking off to one side. "I didn’t, but it was close. I just needed to tell someone that."

Blaine, with no way to communicate other than to mouth a gentle “It’s okay,” let his hand find Kurt’s cheek. Kurt leaned automatically into the touch and started in for another kiss — Blaine stopped him, though, an idea leaping to his mind.

"Make it quick," Kurt said, getting to his knees when Blaine indicated the board. "I’d like to taste more than just your lips today."

With a barely-there shiver, Blaine nodded and started to write furiously after he erased the drawing and everything else.

_I want to do prom with you_

Kurt saw and sighed, “Blaine…” but he held up a finger and kept on.

_We don’t have to go to school but I want us to have the tuxedos and the dance if nothing else. Like a real slow dance with everything I know you not-so-secretly love._

"Where?"

 _Wherever you want. We could stay in one of our houses for the night, but we do spent a lot of time that way already._  Kurt hummed, thoughtful. 

"You want it to be special."

_Everything we do is special, of course. But… personally, I’ve always loved the symbolism behind a first dance. Call me cheesy for the rest of our lives if you want…_

"You  _are_  cheesy,” Kurt huffed as Blaine cleared room to continue writing. “It fucks up all the rules of being a jock.” Blaine raised an eyebrow at him, then indicated Kurt with a vague gesture. Kurt rolled his eyes. “There aren’t rules for whatever I am except for ‘thou must fuck well.’”

Blaine snorted.  _I can assure you that you’ve got that covered._

"Mm. Sorry for interrupting, keep going."

_As I was saying. My last dance with a guy didn’t really end up… great… but I want more than anything to have a dance to remember as that time I got the one and only Kurt Hummel to, somehow, love me._

Kurt bit his lip, trying not to smile and failing. “You didn’t make it very difficult.”

_So is that a yes to a two-person prom?_

Grinning, Kurt signed  **Yes**  and all but tackled Blaine to the bed, peppering him with kisses that quickly turned languid and heated. Before Blaine could get his bearings and ask if he needed to talk about anything else — it seemed as though he did, somehow — Kurt murmured, “Would you like me to ride you, pretty boy?”

Guilt settled bitter in his stomach but Blaine nodded, his dick starting to drive his priorities rather than his head. They could talk later, he reasoned with himself as Kurt slid his polo up, the initial bite of cold skin against his fading to needy warmth in record time.

The time passed in a blur, with sharp, clear images sticking in Blaine’s mind — of Kurt sinking down, his face scrunched; of him mapping the skin of Blaine’s chest with his hands almost frantically; of the way his back arched, jaw dropped beautifully. Too soon, Blaine found himself wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind and breathing in the sweet scent of him mixed with sweat and sex. The giddy post-orgasm phase had passed and now Kurt was pliant and relaxed.

It was getting late and Blaine knew he had to leave or else risk stern looks or maybe even a lecture from his parents. They meant well, of course, his mom having warmed up to Kurt quite a bit over the past few months, but he was still a teenager with a curfew.

He gave Kurt an apologetic kiss when he grumbled (something ridiculous about needing something warm near his sore ass) and got up. Blaine put his clothes back on as soon as he located them and, when he looked back at Kurt to ask if he needed anything before he left, his boyfriend turned out to be fast asleep.

"I love you," Blaine said, signing it as well out of plain habit. That particular phrase he was sure he’d never, ever forget, even if Kurt disappeared from his life and he had no reason left to use it.

Not that he ever wanted to find out for sure.

In sleep, Kurt seemed younger. He went from a semi-badass, tattooed young man full of defenses to a boy with a lifetime’s worth of problems that, through dreams, dissolved into nothingness. Blaine knew better than to worry — Kurt was strong, had proved it many times over — but still he worried, because there was something there that wouldn’t let go of him, that parasite of perceived worthlessness that everyone has and occasionally notices. Maybe Kurt knew he was amazing, but he didn’t trust the world to believe him.

It was a pitfall, Blaine thought, because the world turns coldly, half built of distrust and indifference to its individuals. Kurt wouldn’t ever find the world’s support because that sort of thing doesn’t exist.

But it’s built of warmth and caring too, those things being more focused and, in the stony face of society, meaningless at first glance. They matter, though, matter more than anything else. They just come in smaller packages, ready to open when the world is too much.

Blaine shook his head; he was thinking too much and he had to get home. On the way, he passed by a shop of odds and ends, crafts and unique trinkets in downtown Lima. He smiled and pulled over.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, wait up!"

Blaine turned around in the hallway and instantly spotted Finn maneuvering between people to get to him. He smiled when he got closer and said, “Hey, congrats on the prom king nomination.”

Finn shuffled his feet and grinned. “Thanks, man. But listen, what are you doing for prom?”

"Oh, I’m not going."

"What? Dude, you have to go!"

Blaine shrugged. “I’ve got next year. Kurt doesn’t want to go, so I’m not going.”

"Wait, he doesn’t want to go to his senior prom? Why?"

"It probably has something to do with this school’s attitude towards him," Blaine said slowly. "Just my guess."

"Oh, right. So you guys are just gonna skip?"

Blaine shook his head. “We’re having our own kind of prom, just us. I don’t really know where or how, but that’s the plan. What?” he asked when Finn gave him an odd look.

"Nothing. I’m just really glad you guys are together, you know that? I know I was kinda stupid about it at first—"

"Yeah," Blaine muttered.

"—but he’s a good guy that deserves a good guy like you, even if I never really understood all that sleeping around stuff. And, like, the dye and everything."

"Was it really that big of a change?"

"I keep forgetting you only transferred here this year. Yeah, it was crazy at first. He came home one day at the beginning of our junior year with the pink stuff in his hair and his ear pierced and I thought Burt was gonna explode. He dropped outta glee pretty soon after that."

"Do you know what… happened? The accident happened a while before that, didn’t it?"

"Yeah. I don’t know anything, though," Finn said, hanging his head a little. "I should have asked ‘cause it was pretty obvious something was going on, but yeah."

Blaine wanted to continue the conversation but the bell rang. “Shit,” he grumbled as Finn looked around with wide eyes as though he forgot he had class. “See you, Finn.”

Finn gave him a half-smile. “See you.”

They parted ways and Blaine managed to slip into his classroom without getting marked tardy. During class he thought about what Finn had said — everything he’d said. How Finn thought he was a good guy and how Kurt still held some secrets even from Blaine.

Not that Blaine minded. It sounded like something Kurt would have to tell him on his own, and it wasn’t as though it affected their relationship in any direct way. Simply put, it was just another mystery. Still, he couldn’t help wondering about it. How did the Kurt he knew come to be? He’d seen one or two photos of Kurt from before, and he almost looked like a different person. Much of it was just him growing up, but part of it was the set of his jaw and, of course, the altered parts of his appearance. And his eyes.

Kurt’s eyes then held a kind of sullen ferocity. Kurt’s eyes now held anything from cold indifference (usually in public) to deep warmth (usually when he looked at Blaine or his dad). Blaine’s Kurt had that ferocity too, but he had that visible wisdom that comes solely from difficult circumstances, as well.

Sometimes he just looked tired, mentally and emotionally so.

Blaine sighed; he glanced up to the front of the room and carefully pulled out his phone.  
  
**To: Kurt**  
Hey. I love you.  
  
**From: Kurt**  
Are you feeling spontaneous again?  
  
**From: Kurt**  
ps I love you, too.  
  
**To: Kurt**  
Not really, I was just thinking.  
  
**From: Kurt**  
Sounds dangerous.  
  
**To: Kurt**  
shhh, I was thinking about you.  
  
**From: Kurt**  
Especially dangerous, then. try not to pop one in the middle of class okay?  
  
**To: Kurt**  
I have more control than that, Hummel  
  
**From: Kurt**  
hmm, are you sure? I’m pretty distracting, if I do say so myself  
  
**To: Kurt**  
that’s… true, but I really was just thinking about you and how lucky I am.  
  
**From: Kurt**  
Cheesehead. I think I’m the lucky one here, actually. I mean here I am texting my boyfriend, who is so kindly missing out on his education to be schmoopy as fuck when he could do so later  
  
**To: Kurt**  
… are you telling me to pay attention?  
  
**From: Kurt**  
Ding ding ding. I’ll see you later, handsome.  
  


Blaine shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face.  _God_ , he was so ridiculously in love he could hardly believe it. He still had questions but they could wait, he’d wait forever for Kurt to be ready if he needed to.

It was the mystery he was first attracted to, but it was Kurt he fell in love with.

 

* * *

 

The week passed by slowly, so Blaine was relieved when Saturday evening finally came and he could drive to McKinley. He, however, wasn’t going to walk into the building like the rest of the students.

It wasn’t as cold outside as he’d expected it to be, thank god. Blaine adjusted his bow tie (handpicked by Kurt; they’d gone out to get their tuxedos together, though Blaine still hadn’t seen Kurt wear his) and headed for the football field.

Kurt’s idea had been to have their mini-prom under the bleachers — something private and meaningful but not in either of their houses. Blaine had agreed, of course, but he still held some reservations. It just seemed like an odd place to go for such an event, but Kurt said he’d take care of everything. Blaine didn’t really know what that meant, but he trusted his boyfriend’s words — and figured that they’d have a good time no matter what. 

He ducked into the familiar space and stopped, eyes wide.

The concrete floor had clearly been swept and maybe even washed if the way it shone was any indication. Strings of tiny, warm lights hung from the steel bars that held the structure up, lighting the area like fireflies. The dirty old couch was nowhere to be seen; in its place was a simple table draped in navy. Finally, on the table sat a wireless stereo system, one of their dry-erase boards, and Kurt Hummel himself.

Kurt grinned at him and got to his feet, self-consciously brushing off his slacks. He wore his sleek black tuxedo — and a chartreuse tie that Blaine didn’t remember seeing on their little shopping trip, but that complemented his hair. It was strange to see Kurt dressed so formally, but Blaine loved how he looked this way, how he almost looked ready for a grand wedding.

That, of course, was letting his mind wander too far away, so Blaine stopped staring to sign,  **You look amazing.**

Blaine smiled when Kurt ducked his head, uncharacteristically bashful.  **Thank you** , he signed.  **You look very handsome, as well.**

Then,  **I used to dream about this kind of thing, is that weird?**

Blaine shook his head. **Of course not. Did you do all this?**

 **Yes. My dad helped.** Kurt glanced at the stereo.  **I brought the music I used to listen to and threw in some of your favorite songs too. If you want.**

In answer, Blaine held out his hand and waited. Kurt took it with a raised eyebrow, letting himself be pulled in close.

"Is that a no to the music?" he asked. Blaine traced a plus sign into his hip. He didn’t need music — well, in certain senses he did, but not here. It was more than enough to have Kurt’s arms draped over his shoulders and his own hands at his waist as they started to dance to near silence.

After a while, Blaine playfully began to dance to something more upbeat in his head; Kurt yelped as he was unexpectedly twirled.

"Two can play at this," he muttered, and Blaine was perfectly content to let Kurt lead him, spin him, dip him however he liked to the imaginary (or not so imaginary?) music between them.

Eventually they slowed to a stop and Kurt showed him a smaller table with chairs and yet another board. Blaine sat down as Kurt grabbed two glasses and a bottle of sparkling cider.

 _Who’s cheesy now?_  was the message written on the board when Kurt finally sat down across from Blaine.

"Oh, stop it. Let me live my younger self’s fantasies," Kurt huffed. "I’m sure you’ll do something to even us out in about two seconds."

_Well…_

Kurt smirked. “I knew it.”

 _I do have something I want to give you, and you’ll probably think it’s cheesy but I don’t care._  Kurt tilted his head, curious.  _Hang on, it’s in my pocket._

Blaine fumbled for his pocket, suddenly fiercely nervous — what if Kurt didn’t like it? What if he thought it was dumb? Or, worse: offensive? He almost wanted to just not give it to him, but he couldn’t go back now.

Nearly dropping it, Blaine pulled a small box from his pocket at last. He noticed Kurt craning his neck to peek, so he placed it on the table in front of him.

It wasn’t a particularly  _pretty_  box — it had its own kind of rustic charm, but it was really just a pale brown square with a white ribbon wrapped around it. Blaine dragged the board back towards himself.

_I found this last weekend after I left your house. I didn’t plan on getting anything but it just… reminded me of you? so I got it. And I can take it back if you don’t like it, I kept the receipt and everythi_

Kurt’s hand stopped his on the board and Blaine looked up. “Don’t panic, baby, I’m sure I’ll love it,” Kurt said, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. “Closeted romantic, remember?”

Blaine nodded and smiled back despite his nerves. This was okay. Kurt loved him, so of course it was. His fingers went to the box and opened it with surprising ease given how much they seemed to shake.

Inside the box was a [simple cord necklace](http://media.tumblr.com/f358295b2045a3efb576ce01a0bc9690/tumblr_inline_mu2tyt7hn01r8pden.jpg). A roll of stiff paper made up the charm it was adorned with — the outer pattern consisted of music notes on a staff in black ink. It wasn’t anything particularly expensive or complicated, but when Blaine had seen it in that shop, it had reminded him of Kurt.

Kurt took the necklace with wide eyes, examining it. When he looked back up in wonder, Blaine took a deep breath.

 **You’re my music** , he signed.  **And we’re my favorite song.**

Returning to the board before Kurt could say or sign anything, he wrote,  _It’s handmade, made out of paper but I thought it could be something for you to take with you WHEN you leave. Not if._

"You… shit, Blaine." Kurt shook his head, seemingly overwhelmed.  **Give me a second.**

Blaine waited for what seemed like hours, his fingers toying with the marker in his hand as Kurt took a minute to collect himself.

"Sorry. Okay. Um." Kurt laughed sheepishly. "Words are kind of fucking with my head right now but I want to say this out loud. I never expected the cute guy that got lost last September to be the one I fell in love with, but, well. I did. Really fucking hard. And I think I just did a little bit more, if that’s possible.

"I still don’t think I’ll be going anywhere next year but I know for a fact I would have given up by now if it weren’t for you. So… thank you for that. And for this," he added, indicating the necklace, "because it’s perfect."

Blaine grinned. **I love you.**

 **I love you, too** , Kurt signed back. He put the necklace carefully back into its box and motioned for Blaine to go around to his side of the table.

 **What are you doing?**  Blaine asked when Kurt scooted his chair back until they were facing each other, one standing and one sitting, and reached up to untie Blaine’s bow tie. Kurt just smiled, grabbing the ends of the tie once he finished and using them to pull Blaine down until he was straddling his lap.

"I think we’ve had enough cheesiness for one night," Kurt murmured. "And there’s another prom tradition that we need to acknowledge."

Leaning back slightly, Blaine signed,  **Doesn’t the sex come afterwards? Not during?**

"Oops."

Later, as they headed for his car and ignored their below-the-equator discomfort in favor of keeping their hands on each other, Blaine figured he could easily forgive Kurt that little slip.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so, a few notes: 1. this is probably one of two or three final bits of the verse as it is. maybe. 2. I do still plan on writing a true fic with chapters and I’ve come up with a title and a few ways it could go, so I’m excited. 3. there is a reason for me deciding that Kurt doesn’t truly know sign language.


End file.
